


Voyeuristic Tendencies

by dustandroses



Series: A River Called Denial [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, MMoM 2011, Masturbation, PWP, Voyeurism, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-02
Updated: 2011-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 01:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/207298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustandroses/pseuds/dustandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Spike was bored, lonely and horny as hell; the Ramones banging around the inside of his skull the only company he’d had for what seemed like forever.</i>  But when he decides to have a wank in the cemetery, it turns out he isn't as alone as he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voyeuristic Tendencies

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The Merry Month of Masturbation, Day 2.
> 
> Beta by Ozsaur, my hero and shit.

Spike leaned against a tombstone and swallowed down another big slug of whiskey.

“Nothin' to do, nowhere to go-o-oh, I wanna be sedated…”

He was bored, lonely and horny as hell; the Ramones banging around the inside of his skull the only company he’d had for what seemed like forever. It had been like this for weeks now, ever since he’d left that stink-pot of a basement. He shuddered as he thought of it. The only decent thing about it had been the boy – randy teenage boys were ambrosia to anyone with a nose as sensitive as a vampire’s. The vile odors of mildew and dust were no competition for the strong scent of a healthy young man deprived of the means to relieve his sexual tensions.

If Xander had just broken down and had himself a good wank , Spike would have gladly joined him, but the kid was extremely shy about his naughty bits, and the closest Spike had gotten was jerking himself off while listening to the boy do the same in the shower. Not perfect, but it was better than nothing - which was what he had at the moment.

“Just get me to the airport put me on a plane,  
Hurry, hurry, hurry before I go insane.”

And now he was even hornier, if that was possible. He glanced down at his cock which was trying to push its way through the buttons of his jeans

“You’re a big help, you are,” Spike pointed out to his cock. There was no response. Stubborn git. He tipped the bottle up for another swig, then set it on top of the tombstone he was leaning against. He glanced around, wondering if he could get up to a bit of mischief. There was no one around. Besides, he didn’t give a fuck if there were. Let ‘em watch if they wanted to, as long as they didn’t interrupt until after he was done.

He hadn’t seen any damned Initiative dickwads all night. They were all on the other side of town at the Tranquil Arms cemetery, he’d made sure of that before he’d picked up a couple of bottles of Jack. Unfortunately, it was a quiet night, no real fun to be had, which was why the Jack – he had to do something to relieve the boredom. He rubbed his palm across the prominent bulge in his pants.

“I can't control my fingers, I can't control my brain,  
Oh no, oh, oh, oh, oh.”

Right then. A wank it was. He pulled his jeans open a button at a time, smirking at the marble angel staring down at him from her pedestal across the grassy aisle. She’d be getting a bit of a show tonight. She might not mind, though. She was probably even more bored than he was, considering her predicament, stuck on top of a five foot pedestal.

He reached inside his pants with one hand, while the other found the bottle and tipped it in her direction in a sloppy salute before sucking down a hefty gulp. There was no change of expression, of course, which reminded him of the other Angel of his acquaintance. That stone-faced bastard had even fewer facial expressions than did this poor girl.  At least this angel was easy on the eyes, unlike some poofters he could mention.

“Bamp bamp, ba bamp, ba bamp bamp, ba bamp, I wanna be sedated…”

He set the bottle down, and pulled his cock out. “Cheers, love.” Then he settled in for a nice, comfortable wank, just the way he liked them. Of course, there was nothing wrong with quick and forceful, or angry and rough, but sometimes he liked to take his time, and nothing suited his current mood more tonight.

He spread his legs a bit, his jeans slipping down just enough that he could reach in with his other hand and play with his balls, rolling them in his palm, squeezing lightly. He played with his foreskin with one finger, slipping underneath to tease the sensitive head.

Heat built up quickly as sensation intensified under his hands. His hips moved of their own accord, rolling his cock into his hand as he squeezed tighter. A dozen or so quick strokes that buzzed along his spine, then back to slow and easy – the change of speed making the slower pace feel languid and heavy with pleasure.

He rolled his head back, just to enjoy the play of tension across the back of his neck, and his half-closed eyes landed on his hapless voyeur. “Don’t frown at me, sweetheart, you know you love it. This is the closest you’ve come to action since they planted you here,” he focused long enough to read the inscription, “almost fifty years ago. So pay attention, you might learn something.”

Spike let go of his balls with one last squeeze, and slid his hand up, under his t-shirt to scrape his fingernails across his nipples, scratching across his chest, leaving lines of fire behind that tightened his nipples to hard nubs as he gasped through the fierce combination of pleasure and pain. He stopped his hand for a moment, rolling his hips and forcing his cock through his tight fist for a change of pace.

“Oh, yeah, love, that’s it. Feels so good.”

It was strange, but Spike could almost smell that randy teenager scent of Xander’s drifting past his nose even though the boy was nowhere around. Then he heard a heartbeat and realized he wasn’t alone. He was careful not to stop what he was doing; no need to let them know he was aware of them before he had an idea of what they were up to.

He cursed himself for getting so caught up in his fun that he’d let a human get close enough to…to do what? He caught another whiff of lusty teenager, and realized he really _was_ smelling Xander. He’d know that scent anywhere. The boy’s heartbeat was rapid and he was panting, and yes, that was definitely the sound of flesh caressing flesh. Oh yes, what a good boy he was, getting all horny watching Spike!

Spike stretched sinuously, his pants slipping down around his knees as he rolled his hips again, giving the boy a better view. He got a nice strong burst of pheromones for that move, and Spike smiled to himself, leaning back against the tombstone to push his cock forward into his fist. He swiped one finger across the head to pick up a nice bit of precome before sucking it slowly into his mouth.

He was rewarded with a low groan, and the whisper of a dry palm stroking flesh as the speed of the boy’s fist practically doubled. Spike wanted to go slow, but he wasn’t sure how long he could keep this going before his audience blew his load. Besides, just knowing that Xander was getting off to the sight of Spike had started a rumble of pleasure in his belly that he could feel spreading through his body.

He moved his hand faster, matching the tempo of Xander’s own hand, moving to the rhythm of the boy’s quick gasps for air. The thought that Xander was so turned on simply by watching Spike sent a thrill through him. It made his balls draw up close to his body, tension running through his nerve endings like an electric charge.

Bloody hell! He was suddenly right on the edge, and Spike grabbed his balls again, squeezing and tugging and hoping that Xander came soon, because he was definitely about to blow his wad. In a moment of inspiration Spike let himself go, his tense body arching away from the tombstone, crying out, "Xander!" as he came.

Spike had always been good at multi-tasking, so despite the fact that it felt like his orgasm had blasted his entire body into tiny little pieces, he still managed to hear the sharp cry as Xander came, staggering back a few steps until he hit something solid, a tree, from the sound of it, before landing on his ass in the thick sod of the graveyard.

Spike allowed himself a moment to revel in the afterglow of a truly spectacular orgasm as his body mellowed and he melted against the tombstone. He grabbed the bottle as he slid down the slick marble to crumple into a heap at the bottom, sighing in pleasure.

It wasn’t easy, but Spike managed to hold back his laughter as Xander staggered to his feet, cursing loudly and mumbling something about rivers in Egypt as he practically ran full tilt out of the graveyard. Spike sighed. He supposed he should probably follow the git home. He would never hear the end of it if he was eaten by some random demon who couldn’t tell the difference between a tasty meal and a bad case of indigestion.

He saluted the voyeuristic angel who gazed down at him with what he imagined was a slightly scandalized stare, then tipped the bottle up, finishing off the whiskey before tossing it behind him. It shattered rather satisfyingly against the wall of some mausoleum or other, and Spike shoved his lethargic body up off the ground and took off after his boy, wondering what a river in Egypt had to do with an orgasm in Sunnydale.

Spike realized with a shock that his head was silent for the first time in weeks. He sighed in relief. Not that he wouldn't miss the Ramones, but the sudden quiet was pleasant, for a change.


End file.
